


sign of the times

by ihateuimissu



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1970s, Bottom Louis, Harry has a wife, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Updates, Slurs, Top Harry, enjoy, nothing special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 19:20:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21184643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihateuimissu/pseuds/ihateuimissu
Summary: If I were to describe to you how it felt to be loved by him, I would also have to describe to you how to felt to be hated by him. And that, my friends, is a task I cannot bear just yet. So what I will do is explain to you how I met him. Simply because it would make more sense, I suppose, to start from the beginning...





	sign of the times

_If I were to describe to you how it felt to be loved by him, I would also have to describe to you how to felt to be hated by him. And that, my friends, is a task I cannot bear just yet. So what I will do is explain to you how I met him. Simply because it would make more sense, I suppose, to start from the beginning._

It had been of September, 1973. It was the dreariest night yet, in September; the month full of it's dreary nights. The moon was not yet shining but the sun was no longer beaming over the city of London and I had been sitting in the cafe on the corner of East Pickington Street when he walked in. His hair was the most unkempt part of him, the only unkempt part in fact. His clothes were as fashionable as they could have been for that year and his legs were long and lean, the rest of his body evidently toned through his clothing. The only word I could have used to describe him in that moment is _ethereal_, in fact I used that word describe him in my diary later on that night.

It was the unruly hair, though, that drew me in. The curls, all over the place, falling over his shoulders and landing on his back. He was magical in the old-soul kind of way, with his leather-bound notebook held to his side with by his ringed fingers. it occurred to me much later that Harry Styles was someone who could’ve told you he was born in just about any decade and you would believe him.

My curious eyes started to look at him for a moment and as soon his green eyes met mine I let out a gasp. They were most beautiful shade of green I had ever seen- and to this day, ever have- and they stared at me, I watched as he took a tantalizing glance at the rest of me, a hint of something forbidden glimmering in his forest greens. Because that's what it was, forbidden.

I felt the heat rush up my neck and burn in my ears, and I allowed myself a final glimpse before I looked away. He laughed a little and finally walked over, away from his original place beside the door. I began to blush; he really shouldn’t be walking towards me as I could hardly contain myself already.

"Now, you didn't think I was going to let the eye flirting slide without actually talking to you, did you?" I pretended not to hear, but I was ignited like a fire at his words.

"Hmm?" he pressed further. I finally spared him another glance, letting him see the amused smile that had been playing on my lips. he was such a flirt, a good one at that.  
"Who said I was flirting? I was simply wondering if you knew what a hairbrush was." He barked out a sharp laugh. Perhaps he had been offended, he always did love his hair.

"Well, that's quite rude, don't you think..." he trailed off, inadvertently asking for my name. I decided to humour him. Why not? It’s only a name.

"Louis." He smiled at that and if I'm not mistaken he mouthed my name, in the way I know that he does when he doesn't want to forget something important.

"Don't you think, Louis? I believe I deserve a drink to make up for it?" I rolled my eyes but smiled a genuine smile nonetheless.

"Sure. Are you free Saturday?" He nodded and took my number, writing it down in his notebook for later. I was going out to drinks with a man whom I didn’t even now the first name of...because his hair was curly and his eyes were green.

We had met every Saturday after that, all the way into February of 1974 and every time I saw him he would put an incredible smile on my face. It was just over a week after his twenty-third birthday when he said something that would change my life forever. “I’m engaged!” he said it almost immediately after he walked into the café on the corner East Pickington street and suddenly I wished the whole place would just burn down. I barely had time to the react to the shell-shocking news when he was pulling me by hand into a hug, he seemed giddy and glee and I refused to ruin it by asking questions. Harry never did appreciate answering questions.

I looked up to him as he sat facing me as he often did and I forced a smile on my face. The first of many I would endure as Harry gushed about his fiancé. Her name was Jessica and she was just perfect. And truly, my friends, she was. Her eyes were bluer than anything I had ever seen, her hair which fell in golden ringlets around her waist and her perfect golden complexion most others seemed to envy. If I would be capable of removing bias from the situation I would have looked at them and thought that they were a match made in heaven. Perhaps, if I wasn’t a man composed of sin and driven by envy I would’ve liked her.


End file.
